


follow you down

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Crack, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:26:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3484811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So you're on the run from SHIELD? And from HYDRA? And you think I’m going to hide you just because we were married?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	follow you down

“So you’re on the run from SHIELD?” Jemma asks.

The man sitting at her dining room table hums what she assumes is a “yes” around the cold remains of the Vegetarian Grande Supreme Burrito she very foolishly (or wisely considering her unexpected guest) bought on her way home from work last night. She wonders if it’s any less disgusting when it’s a near-solid lump from the fridge than when it was fresh and oozing grease.

“And from HYDRA?”

This time he manages a “Yep” just before he takes another massive bite. She swallows down her distaste and wonders not for the first time if it’s possible to make it from here to the front door without being stopped. Her slippers are a hindrance but she could slip them off without his noticing, surely, and he is in the middle of a love affair with that burrito. He might not be able to catch her in time.

“And you think,” she asks, “I’m going to hide you from these two organizations - both of which I am _currently working for_ \- just because we were married?”

“Are married,” Grant corrects absently through what remains of his latest bite. He stops chewing suddenly and looks at her - well, not so much at _her_ as at her ring-less left hand. She resists the urge to hide it behind her back. Her heart actually stings a little when his eyes, wide and hurt, meet hers. “You took off your ring.”

“Of course I did,” she says, trying for her best sensible tone. “That’s generally what people do when they find out their spouses are murderers who only married them under orders from a genocidal organization bent on world domination.”

He actually sets down the burrito and she can see her hopes of escape disappearing. Resigned, she puts her slippers back on. If they’re going to fight, she’d rather her feet be warm at least.

“I didn’t marry you because of HYDRA,” he says in that slow, measured tone he used to use in the field when he was trying to relate to her just how dire a situation they were in.

She looks down her nose at him, a privilege she’s often deprived of in their arguments because of their height difference and one she’s not about to waste the opportunity for now. “I do work for HYDRA, you know. I’ve seen my own file.” She laughs. “Half the reason they even took me so easily was that they assumed you succeeded in turning me but never bothered to file the paper…work…” She can hear the chair scraping against the floor and part of her even registers Grant’s smile, but she’s far, far away. “You’re on the run from HYDRA,” she says heavily. That means HYDRA knows she lied when she told them he was dead. And she doubts whatever he’s done to anger them will have HYDRA looking kindly on his supposedly grieving widow.

His hands encircling her arms are enough to startle her back to reality. She reels back but his gentle grip is strong enough to hold her firmly.

“I am,” he says. His hands run up and down her bare arms. It’s been unseasonably warm lately and she wore a light t-shirt to bed. She wishes now that she’d suffered through because while her mind hates Grant Ward for every lie he’s ever told her, her body still remembers him rather fondly and has been missing him terribly these last few months. Just this simple touch of his calloused hands on her skin is enough to have her leaning towards him like a plant reaching for the sun.

“You’ve endangered my mission,” she says. She tries to focus on that and on the physical signs he bears from his months in captivity. He still looks wild and untamed, the beard and ragged hair hiding the face she loved so dearly. 

“Sorry,” he says, completely unapologetic and with that cocky grin. She very rarely saw it outside of their bedroom and she thought, back then, that it was only a tiny part of him. Now she knows it’s one of the few parts of him he ever really let her see. 

“I could turn you in.” It’s the easiest solution and turning on her own husband is bound to gain her some credibility within an organization like HYDRA.

“And I’ll tell them you’re a double agent working for SHIELD,” he says simply, as if dooming them both to unimaginable tortures is a middling thing, “that I never filed the paperwork on turning you because I realized less than a month into our relationship that it was impossible to turn you.”

“Then why continue?” she asks, genuinely curious. She’s spent the last six months assuming that she and, by extension, Fitz were important enough to HYDRA to warrant a personal, long-term con. But if Grant always knew, then why did he stay?

His hands are still rubbing maddeningly up and down her arms but now they lift away. Part of her whines in protest and she barely manages to keep that part quiet before his hands are cupping her face.

“Because it took me even less than that to fall in love with you.”

As romantic statements go, it’s rather a poor one. He’s been lying to her for the last five years because he loves her? That almost makes it worse. But none of that matters to her at the moment because he’s punctuated the statement by kissing her.

Now that traitorous part of her really does cry out and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling them closer. His beard tickles as he begins kissing his way down her neck. His arms are painfully tight around her but she’s no better. She’s digging her nails into his hair, pressing him lower. 

The collar of her shirt is low, coming to a point between her breasts. He pulls it deeper with his chin as he sucks at the skin there. She keens, her back arching and her hips pressing upward so the only thing keeping her up is his hold on her. She can feel his smile nestled in the valley of her breasts.

His nails drag down her back to her thighs. He grips her tight there, giving her the chance to protest. She should. She swore to herself long ago that she’d never let him touch her again. She told herself night after sleepless night that the man who’d brought her pleasure was a monster. Her ignorance of his true nature had forgiven her any culpability in his crimes, but she could never again allow herself to enjoy even the memory of him.

Her hands move to his shoulders - to push him away, surely - but then his mouth closes over her breast. She curls around him. He lifts her up onto his hips and her legs wrap around him the same way they have a million times before. There’s no way he can see around her but he carries her into the bedroom like he’s lived there with her all this time.

She pulls at his shirt so that when he lays her down on the bed, she manages to get it over his head. She tosses it carelessly in the direction of her laundry hamper and meets his eyes.

His grin is feral as he takes in the sight of her laid out before him. Something twists in her belly. She’s never met this man before. This isn’t a cover carefully constructed to fool the world’s foremost clandestine organization, this is the real and true Grant Ward, who she’s only ever seen glimpses of before now. His eyes travel over every inch of her. She’s not sure if he’s imagining what she looks like beneath her silly, dancing tea cup pajama bottoms or if he’s deciding just what to do with her. 

The twist becomes a tug and she shifts her hips to ease some of the pressure. His nostrils flare and he reaches for her. 

Her shirt does not fare so well as his did.

“Thought about this,” he says as he resumes where he left off. He makes his way back up, soothing the burns his beard left behind with rough swipes of his tongue and adding bites that will leave marks for days. “Every damn day.” A bite at the base of her neck is sharp enough to elicit a cry and an increase in the demanding press between her thighs. He swirls his tongue around the spot and sucks at it gently, ensuring it’s well tended to before moving on.

She undoes his belt with shaking fingers. It takes her three tries to get the pin out and by the end he’s laughing so hard he has to lift off of her to undress himself. He pulls the belt free and she hurriedly shucks out of her pajama bottoms while she has the chance.

Jemma has always been a fan of the human organism, it’s why she went into the field she did, but Grant’s particular anatomy has always been one of her favorites. She knows he’s smiling, probably grinning ear to ear, but she’s too distracted by the sight of him, swollen and ready for her. 

“Condom?” he asks.

She slams her head back into the pillow. Her hands are already fisted in the sheets to keep her from reaching out for him and he’s prolonging this?

“Why would I have condoms?” she asks tartly. As far as HYDRA knows, she’s a grieving widow, and as far as reality goes, the person she thought would be the only man she’d ever sleep with for the rest of her life hasn’t exactly been available. Condoms were not a prudent purchase to make.

His smile clues her in too late that it was a test, but then he kisses her to make up for it and she supposes she can forgive him his distrust if he will just _fuck her_ already. She lifts her hips searchingly, going so far as to kick at his legs to get him moving. 

He reaches down to guide himself towards her entrance while his other hand slides into her hair. His grip on her turns painful and he breaks the kiss. She can feel him, just barely inside her, and she tries to press lower but he holds her tight.

“Did you?” he asks, voice deadly serious.

She shakes her head as best as she’s able. His sudden change in attitude and her unsatisfied lust have her completely confused.

His voice gentles, just a little. “There wasn’t a day down in that cell when I didn’t think about you. Your voice. Your smile.” His thumb brushes at the edge of her jaw. “The taste of your skin. The feel of your hot cunt.” He bends forward so his breath ghosts over her and the change in angle has her straining to bring him inside. “Did you think of me?” he asks slowly.

She’s on the edge. Her heart’s pounding and her breath’s coming in wet pants. At this point she’d tell him whatever he wanted to hear if it meant he’d just move already, but she knows she’s telling the absolute truth when she says, “Every day.” 

She wishes she could say her nights were sleepless because she spent them frustrated. Frustration would have been honorable, but she never endured it for long, always drowning out the darkness of this new world with memories of happier times with him.

He smiles that feral smile again and finally moves into her. Her neck arches back as she takes his full length. He gives her just enough time to get acclimated to it before pulling back almost as far as before, lifting his body off her and out of her reach.

“Grant,” she whimpers. Her eyes are screwed shut and she claws at the sheets in place of his back.

He chuckles darkly and moves again, not as far this time. He plays a torturous game of back-and-forth, teasing her clit with his fingers as he goes. She lunges up, intending on using his body as an anchor to take control but he pushes her down with one strong arm. She writhes under him, dragging at her lower lip in a silent plea. 

He holds her gaze. His ragged hair and beard put his face in shadow and she’s struck again by how different this man is from the one she knew. He wants her to remember that, she realizes, and then he slams into her again. She screams his name and, not to be outdone, uses his distraction in his moment of triumph to drag him down.

She holds him close as she tightens around him in waves, which isn’t difficult as he hisses in a breath and wraps his arms around her.

“Shit. _Jemma_.”

She finishes first and is still coming down when he follows. He goes limp, his weight carefully distributed between her and the mattress so he won’t crush her. There is still, it seems, some of the man she knew in him.

She trails her blunt nails over his back in lazy patterns as her breathing evens out and his heartbeat thrums through her chest. He draws his fingers through her hair, twining it between them before letting it fall out again to start all over.

“So,” he says after some time has passed, “nice to know we’ll have something to look forward to while we’re on the run together.”

“I’m not running away with you,” she says automatically. Because she’s not. HYDRA may not trust her anymore but SHIELD certainly does and with Grant escaped, they’ll be sending someone to collect her soon enough.

He lifts up just enough that he can look her in the eye when she turns her head towards him. “You’re my wife.”

She rolls her eyes, which she knows isn’t an answer. She doesn’t have one. They’re still married, technically, and she knew when she said her vows that she was promising to love him through the terrible things his job necessitated. If he’d done all of it - killed Koenig and Hand and whoever else - in service of SHIELD, she would have stood by his side. Does the name of the organization he served change her vows? Or does thinking it should only make her as much a liar as he is?

“I’m not running away with you,” she says again.

He sits up and, instead of getting off the side of the bed, apparently feels the need to crawl backwards off the end of it like some predator moving slowly in reverse.

“How about we make a deal?” he asks as he goes. She does not like the sound of this. “I win, you come with me. You win, I … well, maybe I kidnap you. We’ll play it by ear.”

She lifts up on her elbows. “So what exactly is in this deal for me then?”

“First one to get the other to orgasm wins.”

She should have known long ago that he wasn’t so innocent as he seemed. He’s always been a terrible cheat and this is no exception. “That is completely unfair! You have a biological advantage! It’s much harder for men to come a second time than for women and don’t you dare laugh at me, Grant Ward, that was not meant as a double entendre and-” She cuts off abruptly as he begins sucking on her still overly sensitive clit. 

Well, he may have all but won the battle, but she will certainly be making him pay for it later at whatever motel or safe house he decides to ensconce them in next.


End file.
